Thea led him down aisles created by walls of crates and barrels on either side. The sound of several men's voices came from the other side of the nearest wall of barrels. Drake increased his pace until he was next to Thea.
She turned startled eyes on him. "I thought you stayed in the office."
"I'm not so easily led."
Her blue eyes narrowed. "I was not attempting to lead, sir. It was the most expedient course of action. If Mr. Merewether returns to his office, no one will be there to tell him that you need to speak to him. He might very well leave again."
She had a point. "Nevertheless, I am here. I believe I have made myself clear regarding my view of a woman alone in a warehouse."
She straightened her spine and tilted her head, giving him a look that would have done royalty proud. "I am a lady accustomed to being alone in a warehouse, and I can assure you nothing is likely to befall me in this one."
"Do you call nearly being killed by a stack of barrels toppling nothing?"
She hesitated and bit her lip, an expression coming into her clear blue eyes that was not easy to decipher. "That was unfortunate; however, it is unlikely to happen again. Philippe is most particular about his warehouse."
"I was under the impression the warehouse belongs to Merewether."
"It belongs to Merewether Shipping."
"As I said."
She shook her head. "Not quite. Regardless, Philippe is very possessive. He has worked for Merewether Shipping for over a decade, and he prides himself on the smooth operation of the warehouse."
Drake wondered if Philippe was a slave. Most black men in the West Indies were. Although the slave trade had been abolished for over a decade, the institution of slavery still existed. Drake supported those who lobbied in the House of Lords to abolish it.
"Slaves aren't generally given such positions of power," he said casually.
She looked at him, her blue gaze intense. "No, they are not. Merewether Shipping does not employ slaves. We employ people, free people. Men and women who can choose whether or not they wish to work for us. Most do. The pay is good and Merewether Shipping is loyal to its employees."
She had a fair bit of possessiveness herself. Most lightskirts did not speak of their protector's business as their own. She must be very sure of Merewether, or perhaps she really was his daughter. "Shall we find Mr. Merewether?"
She nodded and broke eye contact. They walked around the wall of goods and came upon a hive of activity. Sailors loaded wagons, keeping up a steady stream of curses that would make most gentlemen of Drake's acquaintance wince. Thea appeared completely unperturbed.
She headed toward the most disreputable looking of the lot, an old man with a patch over one eye and a bottle of whiskey in his left hand. "That's Whiskey Jim. He's the ship's captain."
The captain noticed their approach and let out a piercing whistle. Silence reigned, but the sailors didn't stop their work. They did greet Thea with smiles and waves, and some even pulled on their forelocks while nodding their heads. Thea returned each greeting with a smile and a nod.
"I see yo
u haven't let down any sail, Miss Thea."
Thea smiled and shook her head. "No time. Have you seen Mr. Merewether, Captain?"
"Aye. He went to the house. Promised Miz Ruth he'd have tea with her today, he said."
"Thank you. Mr. Drake needs to talk to him about a matter of some import."
Thea turned to Drake. "Mr. Drake, may I introduce you to the most impressive captain to sail the Atlantic, Whiskey Jim?"
Drake put out his hand toward the old sailor. Thea beamed at him with unmistakable approval. "Captain, this is Mr. Drake."
"Pleasure. Captain."
"Call me Whiskey Jim. It's a fairly earned name and I'm proud to bear it."
Drake looked pointedly at the bottle in the man's hand. "So I see."
The old man laughed. "It's a better man than one that's sailed on my ships that can stand against a taste of my bottle."